


every possibility

by lettersfromnowhere



Series: Just Haven’t Met You Yet [3]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: College AU, F/M, I Guess It's Half Timing-verse, Impulse Writing, New Year's Eve, OOC? IDC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 00:30:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17254238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettersfromnowhere/pseuds/lettersfromnowhere
Summary: It was New Year's Eve, after all.(Yet another unasked-for companion piece to "I Guess It's Half Timing (and the Other Half's Luck)", because it's New Year's Eve...why not?)





	every possibility

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sharkinterviewee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkinterviewee/gifts).



> For @sharkinterviewee, who I believe had (has?) rather intense feelings about the New Year's Eve scene in the OG Half Timing. Also, this is solely born of my boredom, so if it is rather subpar, that's probably why. I had no idea what I was doing when I wrote this, tbh. Then again, do I ever? 
> 
> Yeet?

“Dance with me.”

 

“Peter.” Gamora’s lips twitched into an exasperated smile despite her greatest attempts to contain it. “Do you not remember how this ended last year?”

 

“Yeah, and as long as you don’t run for your life again this time, everything’ll be _peachy,”_ he replied cheekily. “Come _on!_ I didn’t go to the trouble of putting on this New Year’s party where 90% of the guests are half-delirious drunks I don’t want to deal with to _not_ dance with my girlfriend…”

 

Tossing her hair in playful frustration, Gamora accepted his extended hand and let him lead her to the center of the living room, cleared of its usual shoddy rug and worn couches to make way for a dimly-lit dance floor. None of the couples clinging to each other in the middle of Peter’s frat house living room seemed to care much about their surroundings. “Hey, Kale! Pass me the phone!” Peter called to the disheveled young man manning the phone hooked to speakers blaring music Gamora could neither identify nor bring herself to enjoy.

 

“Did you just call him _Kale?”_ Gamora asked, incredulous. “I haven’t even met a Kale in _California-“_

_“_ Yeah, best not to ask,” Peter sighed, catching the phone hurtling through the air towards him.

           

“Yeah, well, your friend _Kale_ just threw an iPhone across a room full of people without, clearly, giving any thought to what might happen to it should it land _literally anywhere_ but in your hand-“

 

“Baby.” Peter turned Gamora to face him, squeezing her shoulder. She tried to ignore the heat rising in her cheeks even after all this time. “You’ve gotta stop worrying so much. They’re frat boys on New Years Eve! What did you _expect?”_

“Some semblance of civility,” Gamora replied drily, shoving her flustered thoughts to the back of her mind.

 

“Well, darlin’, you thought wrong,” Peter informed her rather loudly. “It’s a frat house full of football players on New Years Eve.”

 

“Why did I come all the way out here for this?” Gamora sighed.

 

“Becaaaause you love me,” Peter replied, half-serious, half-hopeful.

 

“Perhaps.” She threw him a coy glance. “Now, were you actually going to do anything with that phone that you just requested be thrown across the room…?”

 

“Ah, yes. ‘Course. Ummm…” Peter scrolled aimlessly. “Yup, that’s it…great. Aaaaand play-“

 

“Warning you now, this better not be _Careless Whisper_.”

 

“Buzzkill,” Peter whined. “Well, guess I have to go with my backup now.”

 

“Wait, you weren’t actually going to play _Careless Whisper,_ were you…?” Gamora asked, quirking her eyebrow skeptically.

 

“Um.” Peter stared at his feet. “Well, whether I did or not is now irrelevant.”

 

“You beautiful dork,” Gamora sighed fondly, ruffling his hair. “Well, you already got me out of my seat, so…let’s dance.”

 

**FLASHBACK**

**11:57 P.M.**

**December 31 st, 2017 **

Gamora’s heart was in her throat.

 

She knew, in a way, what she was going to do before the thought even crossed her mind. She knew that she wasn’t going to be able to pretend that Peter was nothing more than a familiar face for much longer. She knew that she had no better ideas, didn’t know how else she could possibly sort out her feelings. Her first step off of the sofa was, really, the moment she knew what she was going to do, no matter how much she didn’t want to.

 

It was New Year’s Eve, after all. Gamora had spent seventeen years experiencing as little of life as she possibly could. Perhaps it was because she was overworked, as everyone claimed; but she thought, in the deepest recesses of her mind, that there was more to it than she cared to admit. Maybe it was because she’d always been afraid of what might happen were she to let herself live. Maybe because she knew that, if she left her box, a moment like this would arrive. Someday she wouldn’t be able to stay on guard and always make the logical decision. But maybe she needed that.

 

It was New Year’s Eve, after all. She was young and maybe even in love, and she didn’t know if this moment would ever arrive again. So she threw caution to the wind for three minutes.

 

It was New Year’s Eve, after all. So Gamora kissed Peter, ignoring the eyes on her for as long as she could.

 

And then she ran.

 

**11:57 PM**

**December 31 st, 2018**

“Nice choice,” Gamora commented, marveling internally at the way she felt totally at home in his arms. Only months ago she’d have panicked and fled at the mere thought of this. Only months ago, she _had_ run from this.

 

But it was New Year’s Eve, after all. So she danced.

 

“Darling, darling, _staaaand_ by _meeee!”_ Peter sang in her ear, obnoxiously off-key, as he backhanded the phone to an incredibly distressed Kale (who _did,_ on second glance, seem to care about the fate of his phone).

 

“Peter, I love you, but you’re murdering my ears,” Gamora teased. “Stick to dancing?”

 

“ _Wow,_ ” Peter scoffed, feigning injury. “I’m so _wounded.”_

“Someone has to tell you the truth.” Gamora shrugged, as much as she could shrug with his hand on her shoulder. “Might as well be me.”

 

“No one I’d rather hear it from,” he rejoined with a brief peck on her lips.

 

“Heeeey,” Gamora protested. “It’s not twelve yet-“

 

“That didn’t _count,”_ Peter insisted. “You really think I’d settle for _that_ lame of a New Year’s Eve kiss?”

 

Gamora couldn’t help but throw back her shoulders and laugh. “You _idiot,”_ she cackled. “This is why I can’t imagine loving anyone else…”

 

“You, a romantic? Color me _shocked.”_ His reddening cheeks betrayed his attempt at nonchalance. It never failed to amuse Gamora that, no matter how long they were together, he never ceased to turn bright red at the slightest compliment.

 

It was New Year’s Eve, after all. If there were ever a night on which to flip the script, this was it.

 

“I wish we could stay like this,” Peter mumbled into her shoulder, where he’d rested his chin.

 

“Live in the moment. Don’t worry about that now,” Gamora replied with a ghost of a smile. “Learned that from you.”

 

“Mm.”

 

“Peter, are you _falling asleep?”_ Gamora asked, noticing his weight growing heavier against her shoulder.

 

“Mmph.” He stood himself up abruptly, shaking the sleepiness out of his face. “Nope. ‘Course not.”

 

“Good. Because it’s midnight.”

 

“Well, lucky me.” Peter grinned.

 

It was New Year’s Eve, after all. So Gamora leaned in and kissed him and this time, she knew, she wouldn’t run. 

 

Because it was New Year’s Eve, after all, and there was nowhere she’d rather be.


End file.
